


In the Back of Your Mind

by Meatball42



Series: Rare Pairs [8]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Depression, Drug Use, F/F, Gen, Overdosing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing's wrong. She's just <em>very </em>focused on her work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Back of Your Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [earlymorningechoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlymorningechoes/gifts).



> I hope you don't mind that this is more pre-slash than slash.

Abby’s ears are buzzing. Or maybe that’s the music that’s making her teeth vibrate, or Major Mass Spec over there chugging along toward his results a lot _louder_ than usual. Anyway, the buzzing is making it difficult to concentrate on this DNA analysis which is bad, _really_ bad because Gibbs is- because Tony is counting on her and she can’t let him down, she just can’t. What kind of friend would she be if she let the others work until they slept on the floor upstairs- without even a futon!- and she gave up because of a stupid buzzing in her ears?

That’s it! She’s probably tired. Abby walks toward her fridge but it feels like the ground is moving under her. In the fridge is the Caf!Pow Tony brought her and the one she asked McGee to bring her and the one she scared Jimmy into bringing her. Tony’s is only half full so she picks it up and drains the rest without coming up for air.

“That’s better,” she says, tossing the Caw!Pow at the trash can. It misses completely and bounces across the floor. Strangely, Abby can’t even hear the sound it makes, although that’s probably because of how fricking loud this place is. Not to mention the buzzing in her ears, which hasn’t stopped.

Abby sneaks a suspicious glance at the doorway and opens the skull-covered incense case she picked up on her last visit home to New Orleans. Inside is a packet of the stimulant she’s synthesized for those nightmare cases that go on for days and require her best work. No ‘Five Hour Energy’ for Abby Sciuto, no way José!

She dry-swallows a pill, mouth still wet from the Caf!Pow. Within minutes, it’s like she’s fresh again. Her hands are jittering slightly- actually, it looks like her hands are still and the rest of the world is jittering slightly- but the buzzing has faded into white noise and she can concentrate on the DNA analysis.

Abby ignores the picture of Gibbs looking at her disapprovingly from her desktop. “It’s for the team,” she says firmly. But to herself, not to him.

…

“Abby?”

A low woman’s voice seeps into her ears like warm rain, soothing the headache that throbs with every beat of Abby’s heart. She scrunches her nose and turns toward the sound.

“If you can hear me, squeeze my hand.” Abby tries to squeeze both her hands, but she can’t feel anything. Still, the woman says, “Good job. Do you think you could drink something?”

Abby’s mouth is dry, but for some reason the gentle question brings up a well of sadness inside her and she takes in a ragged breath. “Gibbs?”

The woman sighs. “I’m sorry, Abby. It’s Ziva.”

Abby shakes her head, the throbbing spikes, and she drifts off again.

…

“No lasting damage, I’m very pleased to say. Hopefully, Abigail will be up and about again within a few days.”

“Ducky?” Abby whispers through her dry throat. There’s a blink of a pause, and then a wrinkly hand is holding hers and she cracks a smile. “Am I okay?”

“You’re just fine, my dear. Ziva has been taking very good care of you.”

She tries to open her eyes, but there’s sunlight and her head hurts. “Water?”

“Of course. Could you-?” A few moments later, there’s a straw at her mouth. Abby takes a few short sucks and then stops, tired.

…

“Whoa, what happened?”

Abby sits up. She’s in her bedroom, but the coffin has been moved to the corner and her comfy futon from the lab has been brought in. Her bedside table and the floor have been completely cleaned of her rubber spider collection and her stuffed animals, and she’s wearing pajamas which she does not remember putting on.

Abby reaches for the tazer she keeps strapped behind her headboard, but it’s gone, and there are quiet footsteps coming from the living room. She grabs her bedside lamp, an artfully twisted iron stake made by a friend, and turns to face the door, lamp aloft.

The intruder steps inside and catches the lamp as Abby weakly swings it around. “Ohmigosh, I’m so sorry!” Abby cries.

Ziva carefully places the lamp back on the bedside table. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you were prepared to defend yourself, even if it wasn’t necessary.” She smiles. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a wet noodle. No,” Abby corrects, “actually more like a wet noodle that got left on the counter and ends up stuck so you have to get out a spatula to get it off.”

Ziva raises her eyebrows and sits in the chair that has been placed beside the futon. “I see.”

“What happened? I only remember a little.”

“Ducky told us that you overdosed on stimulants,” Ziva says, watching Abby’s face carefully. “Director Shepard has put you on medical leave for two weeks.”

“Two weeks!” Abby exclaims, distraught. “But my lab, my work! The case, we’re in the middle of a humongous case, I can’t let everyone down!”

“You are recuperating, Abby, we will not feel let down,” Ziva insists.

“Not you guys,” Abby makes up. “I mean my computers. They’ll miss me!” She puts her hands over her heart. Her chest is hurting at the thought of being away from NCIS. “Ziva, I want to go back!”

Ziva’s big brown eyes watch Abby with concern. “We are worried about you, Abby. If Jimmy hadn’t found you, you could have been seriously hurt!” She softens her voice. “Can you tell me why you were taking those pills we found?”

“I couldn’t focus.” Abby plopped back on her futon and stared at her bedroom ceiling. “That’s all.”

“You were working for a day and a half straight. It’s no wonder you needed to sleep.”

“I don’t need to sleep, I need to get back to work!” Abby insists. “Can’t you call the director? I’m feeling a lot better already, I can go back tomorrow.”

“Abby.” Ziva’s serious voice made the younger woman look at her. “We have all been working hard since Gibbs resigned. You and Tony in particular barely stop working. But Tony knows that McGee and I rely on him, and he can rely on us. We’re a team.” Ziva takes one of Abby’s hands, as the forensic scientist’s eyes begin to water.

“I miss him,” Abby whispers. “I want him back.”

“I know,” Ziva says quietly. “We all do. And I believe his absence will continue to hurt for a long time. But we have each other, Abby.”

“No, you and Tim and Tony have each other. Ducky and I are all alone,” Abby tries to turn away from Ziva, but her hand is caught fast.

“You have me, Abby,” Ziva swears. Gently, she wipes away the trails of tears down Abby’s cheeks. “You are not alone in this.”

Abby breaks down, but Ziva slips onto the futon and holds her together while she cries.


End file.
